


Those Who Answer

by robotfvckers



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Choose Your Own Adventure, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Oni Genji Shimada, Other, Sanzang Zenyatta, nsfw starts in chapter 4, warnings and pairings to be decided by you!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-02 01:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13307307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotfvckers/pseuds/robotfvckers
Summary: A spicy choose your own adventure fic featuring Sanzang!Zenyatta.Zenyatta and his disciples journey far from home to aid a fallen king in protecting the surrounding lands from a new, powerful force.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As a very special thanks to my followers and to celebrate the new year, I decided to write a spicy Choose Your Own Adventure story featuring my favorite boy Zenyatta!  
>   
> I will write the beginning of a 3rd person story featuring Zenyatta, and you will decide his actions and objectives! Will Zenyatta finally admit he has a crush on his student, or will he fall into enemy hands? Strawpolls will decide how the plot proceeds! You can find links to them on tumblr or at the end of each chapter.

* * *

The castle, like the village surrounding it, appears a ruin. The walls are huge and ancient, crumbled and reclaimed by the earth in many places, littered with large omnic chassis that had years ago been struck down, now only corpses of metal and moss.

“This is the right location, according to the map,” Winston says, adjusting his glasses as he stares down at the tiny holopad in his hand.

“Not much better than Junkertown,” Mako grumbles.

The only one uncharateristically silent is Reinhardt, who cannot seem to draw his eyes away from the overgrown cobblestone and grand parapets, studying them carefully.

“It feels familiar, somehow.” He says with puzzled reverence, but then shakes his head. “Master, should we wait for our companion before we approach?”

Zenyatta steeples his fingers, smiling in a secretive way that speaks of mischief.

“I am sure Genji is near. He will show himself in his own time.”

His strange, fourth disciple held tightly to his pride, refusing to journey with them properly, though the alternative was death at his brother’s hands. Slow to trust and prone to anger, their travels had tempered him somewhat, but he remains the...liveliest of his pupils. Still, Genji had done his share of protecting him, even as he complained of Zenyatta’s meditations and kata while performing both.

Zenyatta’s smile fades as he floats, bracketed by his disciples, towards the massive castle gate. His sensors register a small camera from a few feet above their heads, and he stares into the concealed lens, giving it a small wave.

An intercom sounds from behind a stone in the wall, crackling to life.

“Master Zenyatta, correct? Glad you answered the call.” The voice is rough, though pleasant, brisk in a way that demands authority. “To the left is the personnel entrance. I’ve sent someone there to greet you.”

“It is good to be here…” Zenyatta pauses.

“King M–well, perhaps Commander will do. Jack Morrison.”

“Commander, then.”  Zenyatta nods, turning when he hears the door open several feet away.

His entourage tenses, but before them is a single man clad in a red cloak and old, tarnished armor, waving as they approach.

“Nice to meet ya. Jesse McCree.” Zenyatta seamlessly moves to stand, shaking Jesse’s hand as he offers it. A strange custom, but not an unfamiliar one. “Was a bounty hunter, but I got called, same as you. Old ties die hard don’t they.” He eyes his disciples. “Y’all fellas are big. What are you feedin’ them?”

Zenyatta chuckles as they exchange pleasantries while Jesse leads them inside. The small antechamber opens to a great hall, broken and barren but recently cleaned.

“Not such a ghost town after all,” Mako says, noting the people passing by, some with faces in their holopads, others transporting old tapestries and books.

“Yeah, we recently reclaimed this place. Bit of a dump, but the Commander thinks we should be able to get it back in working condition before...well before anyone can do anything about it.”

“What do you mean by that?” Winston asks.

“Might be something best discussed with the Commander. Bet you’re tired though, after such a jaunt. I can show you to your rooms, if it pleases ya. Or would you like to speak to the Commander now?”

* * *

> Rest in your rooms

> Speak to the commander

> Ask Jesse what he thinks about the Call

~~<https://strawpoll.com/g3e7f1yd> ~~


	2. Chapter 2

**> Speak to the commander.  
**

“I would like to speak to the commander first.”

“Hm, right to the point, huh.” Jesse murmurs, withdrawing rolled paper from beneath his cloak. He snaps his fingers, and the paper ignites, flaring as he breathes in the cigarillo, letting it hang between his lips.

“Some sort of magic?” Winston asks, adjusting his glasses.

“Nothin’ more than a lil parlor trick. This way.”

They walk through the middle of the great hall that opens into an even larger space once they follow Jesse around a corner. An ancient suit of armor fills the largest throne Zenyatta has ever seen. Reinhardt halts in the middle of the room, staring at the great warrior’s remnants.

“Yeah, we wanted to move ‘im, but it just didn’t seem right.” Jesse offers.

Mako and Winston follow Jesse past the throne, but Zenyatta stops next to Reinhardt, placing his hand on his arm.

“Do you wish to remain here?” Zenyatta murmurs, knowing the discord that wars inside his student even when his mask reveals nothing. “It will not be long.”

Reinhardt’s huge shoulders sag. Then he sighs, placing his hand over Zenyatta’s.

“I would like that greatly.”

Zenyatta smiles up at him, grip tightening before he turns to follow the group.

“Master McCree, do you know the identity of the man who had fallen here?”

Jesse scratches the back of his head with a huff. “Master, what a title. Just McCree. Was never a lord, just a hedge knight looking for a cause and a roof over my head.”

“A worthy pursuit.”

Jesse chuckles.

“As for the armor, ‘m not sure who it is. Rumors amongst the ranks say it’s an old king. Might be able to find his name in some of the archives here if you’re interested.”

They come to stop at the end of a narrow hallway. Passerbys weave around them, and his disciples make it no easy task with their size. They wait before a door, slightly ajar, and inside a tall, scarred man with shocking white hair speaks while a woman hastily writes on her holopad. She nods curtly and walks past them, giving the group an odd look before departing.

“Don’t worry about that. You guys are a long way from home and look every bit like it. No offense.”

Mako snorts.

Jesse leans inside the room. “Commander. You free? Master Zenyatta would like his debriefing now.”

“Just Zenyatta, McCree.” The monk says, and Jesse grins.

“Well, alright.” He turns back to the commander, who rounds his desk and waves them inside.

The Commander smiles, wan and short-lived, but his eyes are not unkind. Soft, tightly bound discord concentrates in the man’s chest. He had seen much sorrow in his life, but the scars and the tired eyes tell that story just as easily.

“Should I call you Zenyatta too?” The Commander’s mouth slightly upturns.

“If it pleases you, commander.” Zenyatta says as he shakes his hand. His grip is warm and calloused against his sensors. Strong, even though he must be well into his fifties.

They exchange greetings, and Jesse hovers at the doorway, keeping the conversation private.

“As you know, the world’s changing. New factions are rising that can disrupt the peace. Dangerous ones that don’t care who gets hurt, only that they can achieve their goals. One such is on the march here. Led by a man called Doomfist.” Jack stares at each of them in turn, as if addressing soldiers.

“He’s got a legendary weapon that can level cities, and it doesn’t help that he’s got the brains and ruthlessness to match. Hails from an ancient bloodline that recently reclaimed its power.” Jack shakes his head. “He’s a mover, that one. Doomfist amassed a battalion overnight, new blood and the loyalists who believed in his ancestors. Their family’s sigil was a great bird, but his followers unite under the name ‘Talon’.”

“This Doomfist. What is his goal?”

“World domination. Wants to unite all the kingdoms under his own banner, or so says our man on the inside. He should be arriving tomorrow night. I’d like you to meet him too.” The commander turns his gaze to Zenyatta. “Your dossier says you’re a master of shambali fighting style, and your followers also have exceptional battle experience. However, that’s not the only reason I’ve called you.” He picks up his holopad, reviewing it as he gathers his thoughts.  “I’ve heard you have something akin to clairvoyance. Is that true?”

“Hardly.” Zenyatta steeples his hands in front of him. “It is more accurate to say I can sense the emotional states of people nearby, or people that I have strong connections to at a distance.”

“I realize this is rude, but I want to test your powers. I want you to read me now.”

Zenyatta raises his hand. “No offense taken. You are sure you wish to do this in front of others? It can be quite personal.”

The commander shrugs. “Good of time as any.”

Zenyatta breathes out and closes his eyes. The atmosphere shifts, almost imperceptibly, heightened like the air before a lightning strike.

“You are tired, worn thin by the weight of responsibility. You have known many hardships that have led you to this place. You have given away your comfort, but received something many times more important. You feel doubt. Experience has left you jaded, and you have not the energy of your youth. Continuing in this manner pains you when you feel your path is unsure. Especially when a recent decision brought great harm to someone you hold dear.” Zenyatta frowns and opens his eyes, the blue glow dispersing to his normal, deep brown. “I fear I have stated too much. My apologies.”

The commander stares, working his mouth between awe and anger, then he laughs, raspy and tired. “No, that’s...it’s what I asked for. Thank you.” He nods, face returning to something more neutral.

“I fear we may be dealing with Doomfist sooner than we’d like, but he always approaches first as a diplomat. Makes him seem merciful, garners support from people who are neutral to his cause. I’d like you to attend the meeting. Perhaps you can get a read on him.”

Zenyatta nods. “Of course. My skills are at your disposal.”

The commander smiles.

“Thank you. It’s reassuring to hear.” Jack closes his holopad. “That’s all that I have for you. But I can answer a few questions before our resident alchemist reports back about the supply cache.”

* * *

> Rest in your rooms

> Ask the commander about his inside agent

> Speak to Reinhardt

~~<https://strawpoll.com/zx4cgkzw> ~~


	3. Chapter 3

**> Ask the commander about his inside agent**

“A final question, if you will permit my curiosity. Your inside agent...tell me about him.”

Jack glances at his holopad, then to McCree turned towards the hallway.

“His name is Gabriel Reyes. We’ve known each other since we were young. In another life, he was my hand.” His blue eyes shine then, and for a moment Zenyatta sees the commander with flaxen hair and an unlined face, a vibrant blue cape whispering behind him. He is happy.

“He always did everything I couldn’t. Still does...but, well…” His expression firmly recenters them in the now as it grows solemn. “He is still here. That’s all that matters.”

Zenyatta knows it isn’t true, but he won’t push it, not when the commander has been so forthcoming already.

“I see. Thank you for telling me.”

He places his hand lightly on Morrison’s shoulder, and the man’s expression softens again.

Zenyatta glances to his disciples. They are dead on their feet, though they would never say so. He gives them a gentle nod.

“I think it is time to rest. The journey was quite taxing.”

“Of course.” The commander says. “I’ll send Gabe your way tomorrow so you can meet him yourself.”

“I would like that.”

They both bow with a gentle dip of their heads, then Zenyatta and his disciples take leave.

“Jesse, before you point us in the direction of our rooms, I would like to return to the main hall.”

Jesse smiles, expression stiffer than before. Close to Gabriel too, Zenyatta guesses, though he tries to hide it.

“Wouldn’t dream of anythin’ less than showin’ you myself. Let’s go.”

Reinhardt is standing close to the throne when Zenyatta spots him. His mask is off, his eyes closed, deep in thought.

“Reinhardt.” Zenyatta says when he reaches him. He opens his eyes to look at Zenyatta, emotions still tangled. “We should rest. Let us go.”

For a moment, Reinhardt seems as if he will fight, then he sighs.

“Yes. I believe that is best.”

They follow McCree down the winding hallways and into another long wing of rooms, mostly unoccupied.

“Figured you’d want a little privacy, though we are a bit short on liveable spaces. Lotta walls are busted up, and nature’s taken its course. Should be enough for each of you to have your own room at least.”

Reinhardt retires with little more than a weak smile, but perhaps it is best to let his disciple ruminate on his thoughts for now. Mako retires silently. He does not enjoy large crowds, and a rest is much needed.

“I used to run a similar operation at my own base. Wouldn’t mind checking the place out after a power nap.” Winston says.

“You’re free to wander as you see fit, just beware of the holes. Castle’s a bit unstable in parts.”

“Er, I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.” Winson turns to Zenyatta. “See you in a few hours?”

Zenyatta nods, and Winston closes his door with a soft click.

“You seem anxious, Jesse.” Zenyatta murmurs as the man lingers, fighting his smile.

“I jus’ want to make sure you’re comfortable. Do you need special accommodations on account of you...well, being an omnic an’ all?”

“My battery is quite powerful, requiring only a few minutes of solar heat once every 3.2 cycles, depending on exertion, though I do not mind resting for a few hours to restack protocols and run diagnostics to maintain system efficiencies.”

Jesse laughs, then moves his lips as if missing something, a tick, cigarillo nowhere to be found.

“You’re really interestin’. Artificial, but more...in tune than anyone I’ve met before. Must be somethin’ to those shambali.” His voice lowers closer to a whisper. “What kind of tenants they got you followin’ up there in the mountains?”

Zenyatta grins.

“Are you interested in joining our ranks? Or is there something else you wish to know?”

Jesse reddens beneath his beard, shifting his strange hat suddenly.

“N-nah, I...just, curious. I guess—I’ll, I’ll let you rest.” Jesse takes several steps down the hall, then abruptly turns back toward him. “My room is back this way and to the left, third door on the right! I mean, just if you need anything!”

Zenyatta presses his knuckles to his mouth, hiding his soft puff of laughter as he waves goodbye. He sighs, not unhappily, turning back into the room he selected for himself.

It is dimly lit at this hour, the shades drawn over the small window above the bed only just big enough for two, the only other furniture a small wooden table and chair.

The curtains shiver, and darkness shifts across the floor.

Zenyatta relaxes.

“Genji. I am glad you made it here safely.”

It is not fear he feels when Genji materializes in front of him, rather curious awe, the same feeling that always takes him when he witnesses his student’s innate power.

Genji clicks his tongue.

“Child’s play. I could slaughter everyone here within a night.”

“And yet, you will not.” Zenyatta replies.

“And you are so certain of what I will and will not do.” Suddenly the red fangs of Genji’s mask are inches from his face, nothing but his glittering eyes to be seen beneath.

* * *

> Ask Genji what’s wrong

> Call his bluff

> Ignore him

~~<https://strawpoll.com/7gegba8e> ~~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Zenyatta/Genji, nsfw!  
> Things are heating up! Please note that there are still chances for other spicy things and pairings to occur, so please vote accordingly. :3c

**> Call his bluff**

He stares directly into Genji’s eyes, unwilling to back down. He has an inch on his wayward student, and he uses it to his advantage, leaning in so closely he can feel Genji’s breath against his face.

“You think yourself evil, but I know that is not who you truly are.”

They could fight as they have done before. He could deliver a swift kick to his student’s leg, send him to the floor, force him against the wall inches from his back, channel Genji’s energy into action.

Instead, he presses his finger beneath his student’s chin and tilts his head. Genji goes still, stiller than he was in the shadows, undetectable if he wasn’t already trapped within Zenyatta’s sights.

“What has put you in such lows spirits, my student?” Zenyatta murmurs, mala rolling lazily around them both.

Genji twitches, as if he fights Zenyatta’s grip, but he doesn’t move away. Slowly, so slowly, granting Genji every option to avoid it, Zenyatta slips his mask up, revealing a fine face latticed with scars, marks of Genji’s banishment from his clan.

His eyebrows are drawn low, lips twisted into an uncertain sneer. It is not as entrancing as Genji’s rare smile, but it has its beauty, making his next motion soft and sweet. His drags his thumb over Genji’s lower lip, relishing the way his harsh exhale ghosts over his servos.

“After going such lengths to prove you do not care for me, why are you reacting in this manner?”

His frown deepens. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Zenyatta steps forward, and Genji retreats, back flattening against the wall. The telltale flush reveals everything to him, but still his student’s unwillingness to admit his feelings charms him.

“Jealousy does not suit you.”

Genji growls, lips receding to reveal his gleaming teeth.

“I am not jealous.”

Zenyatta hums, then he cups the side of Genji’s face and closes the space between them. He cannot feel it, not beneath Genji’s armor, but the way his student sucks in his lower lip and his eyes flutter betrays him. He draws his hand along the panels of Genji’s body, past his twitching hips that do nothing to displace him, settling between his thighs.

“Let me see.” Zenyatta breathes into Genji’s ear, and he trembles, trying to summon anger but finding only tamped down longing and a dangerous, unwanted hope.

Genji tenses as Zenyatta undoes the wrappings at his waist, the medallion falling to the floor with a clatter as he slips his hand inside.

Zenyatta teases his fingers between armor and cloth, knowing what he’ll find but still thrilling when he brushes against it: Genji’s cock, hot and nearly erect. His student latches onto his shoulders in a vice, hips stuttering as if he still isn’t sure, still doesn’t want to be so vulnerable in front of someone he thinks he hates. That is what Zenyatta reads as he turns his wrist and wraps his hand around the base of his student’s cock, relishing the way it pulses from something so minimal.

“How long have you been like this?” Zenyatta says as he begins to stroke. The position is awkward, and he can do little more than move a few inches at a time, but Genji curls into him as if struck, face buried into the front of Zenyatta’s robes. “You need only ask.”

He feels the threat of Genji’s teeth through his clothes as he groans and mouths at him, nearly docile now that he finally has what he wants. Though he lacks full motion, Zenyatta doesn’t let it deter him: instead he rolls his wrist, nudging the back of his hand beneath his glans, bumping the dripping slit of Genji’s cock against the main sensor of his palm. The synthetics are softer there, providing something supple and warm for his student to rut against, and so he does, hips stuttering into the shallow channel of his hand, chasing his pleasure even as its peak lingers out of reach.

Zenyatta shushes him with a quiet exhalation, wishing he could see Genji’s face as it twists in desperation.

“The door is still ajar. Is it your wish to draw an audience?”

Genji stiffens, though he cock jerks in his hand, and within his own body heat gathers, sudden and secretive. He lets Genji’s pants fall to mid-thigh, selfish, he knows, improper, but he wants to see his cock leaking all over his fingers, see his student’s thighs quake, work his hand faster, touch him properly. The sight does not disappoint: his cock is angry red like the rest of him, thickest just beneath its glans, throbbing and wet. His student’s breathing grows as desperate as his motions, even muffled into his shoulder, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.

So entranced, Zenyatta does not realize his student is close, and the first spurt surprises him, splashing over his knuckles, shocking a chirp from his synth, barely heard over Genji’s rough, broken groans. He brushes his lips to Genji’s ear, murmuring soft praise as he milks the rest of the spend from him, aching himself, wanting what he cannot allow himself to have. The hands at his shoulders loosen their grip, and Zenyatta withdraws a cloth from his pocket, wipes the mess from them both as Genji’s aftershocks fade.

He finally gets what he’s wanted: the sight of Genji’s face, flushed and wrecked, most of his annoyance smoothed into bliss. The spell breaks when his student’s gaze finds his own, barriers reforming, but, Zenyatta hopes, not as high as they once were. He does not miss the way Genji’s eyes snap down his master’s body for the briefest of moments, perhaps wondering, wishing…

And Zenyatta will let it stay within his thoughts, will not offer or ask; instead he tucks his student back into his clothes and ties his wrappings.

“We should rest.”

“I am not staying here.” Genji says petulantly.

Zenyatta nods.

“You are free to do as you wish.”

Zenyatta prepares for bed as his student lingers, shutting the door firmly and removing his outer robes and crown. With everything in its proper place, he settles on the bed, old but clean. His power reserves are lower than he thought, and he makes a note to meditate in the morning light.

* * *

When Zenyatta wakes some hours later, Genji is wedged against him, snoring quietly. Zenyatta tugs the blankets over his student’s shoulders and lets the steady sound lull him back to sleep.

* * *

The bed is empty when he wakes a second time, the first threads of dawn glowing in the gaps of the curtains. Zenyatta smiles to himself as he stands and redresses, wondering what he should do first.

* * *

> Meditate and recharge

> Try to find the dining hall

> Check on his disciples

~~<https://strawpoll.com/w44a9aer> ~~


	5. Chapter 5

** > Meditate and recharge**

His disciples probably sleep; the journey was long, and their flesh bodies tire more quickly than his. Zenyatta messages to let them know where he will be then steps into the hall silently, enjoying the stress on his legs as he passes the mostly empty rooms and ascends the stairs into the unknown.

He isn’t sure where the path will lead him, but eventually there would be a roof to find, and the exploration is pleasant, seeing the ancient stone mixed with modern technology, recently outfitted, it seems, by the commander’s occupation. They would not set down such infrastructure had they not planned to stay, planned to fight, for the castle.

What reason would the commander have to stake claim here?

The air grows damp and chill as he ascends a spiral staircase into the tower proper. There is little here, nearly untouched, only an old ladder leading to the sky. Zenyatta climbs, pushing the barely ajar covering with a hard push.

He climbs onto the watchtower’s roof, the space larger than he thought it would be, the scenery making his processors flutter.

The sun’s light threads along the horizon, the landscape rolling with fog that mutes the bright greens of the hills and trees, obfuscating the abandoned town beneath. It looks like a dream, an oil painting weathered through the ages. He knows his feeds will never be able to capture its beauty, so he holds it inside him, closing his eyes and feeling it along his chassis, the air, chilled and still, not yet warmed by the dawn.

Centered, he notices something amiss.

Zenyatta robes billow as he turns to face whatever is at his back, lips slimming into a hard line.

A man with dark, ashen skin stands a few feet from him. His face is scarred and bearded, dark eyes widened, clad in black cloak with darker armor within. His form wavers at the edges, like smoke diffusing into the air. Human, or perhaps not, he does sense a whisper of it, yet mostly he feels static, like a thousand machines buzzing, flattening into one, quiet hum. The man raises both hands, one with a cigarette clasped between ring and middle finger.

“Didn’t mean to startle you. This is my haunt, so to speak.” The man grins with tight eyes, and though there is little to sense, none of it is malicious.

Zenyatta relaxes.

“Forgive me. I was not expecting anyone else to be here.”

The man walks past Zenyatta and leans over the ancient stone as he lights his cigarette and takes a pull; the ember of it reflects in each pupil, red and fiery. A glitch in his sensors?

“You’re the monk, right? Jack had mentioned you were coming.” The man isn’t looking at him, instead taking in the same scene that had enamored Zenyatta moments ago.

“I am Zenyatta, yes.” He says with a wan smile, placing his hands along the same low stone of the watchtower’s wall. “You are Gabriel Reyes.”

The man turns a bit, eyes studying him sidelong.

“Jack told you?”

“An educated guess.”

Gabriel takes another drag, the roll of smoke mirroring his body in a way that’s nearly subconscious.

* * *

> Ask about his appearance

> Ask about Doomfist

> Ask about the commander

<https://strawpoll.com/xhcy5zp9>


End file.
